


Greetings to the New Brunette

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Ensemble Cast, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You said he should have a hobby. That it would help."</p><p>"I meant, like, knitting or coin collecting. Motocross, if he was feeling antsy. A baby's not a hobby. It's lifetime commitment."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greetings to the New Brunette

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to me! All Angelgazing's fault. Title from Billy Bragg.

"There's a mission this morning, sir, and your services are required," JARVIS says, just as Steve is finishing his morning shave. 

Steve sighs. "Why don't bad guys take weekends off?"

"I'm sure I don't know, sir," JARVIS replies as Steve pulls on his uniform instead of his jeans, and then taps gently at Bucky's closed door. 

"I'm heading out," he says. "There's coffee in the pot and bagels on the counter."

Bucky doesn't answer. He never does when Steve leaves on missions, not even an obligatory don't get yourself killed. Steve knows it's only been a few months, but he'd hoped--well, he'd hoped, even when Sam had told him to be patient, that the fact that Bucky had shown up at all was a huge step. And Steve knows that. He does. But patience has never been one of his virtues, and he's never liked having to sit on the sidelines when Bucky's in a fight, even if it's only against the ghosts and demons in his own head.

"I should be back before tonight, but let JARVIS know if you need anything." 

He's at the elevator when he hears the grudging, "Okay."

It's not much, but Steve will take it.

"AIM lab in Delaware," Tony says once they're in the air. "So there might be some Extremis-type super soldiers in the mix."

"Great," he says sourly. There's something unsettling about the Extremis soldiers--maybe it's the way they can explode if not handled carefully, or the way they sometimes breathe fire. It creeps Steve out, just like Schmidt's face-peeling shtick had, if not for the same reason.

"Yeah," Tony responds, making a what are you gonna do gesture with his hand, and Steve figures it can't be any easier for him, because he knows better than anyone that they can be helped, that many of them were coerced--experimented on (and Steve absolutely refuses to think about Bucky, strapped to Zola's table, so many years ago)--and that even the ones who volunteered likely didn't know what they were really getting into (and Steve is nothing but sympathetic to that, too), but in the end, most of them will be locked up anyway. Or they would have been, while SHIELD still existed. Now, he doesn't know what will happen, except the military will probably swoop in at some point. They always do.

Steve's still not sure what right or jurisdiction they have to do this, but he suits up when the Avengers get the call, because he knows the police can't handle juiced up or cybernetically advanced super soldiers who explode when they get angry, or whatever the fight of the day is, and it's still more important to him to help save people than it is to follow the letter of the law. If someone tries to arrest him afterwards, well, he's sure Pepper's got a team of lawyers on speed dial. Maybe that makes him cynical, but he knows better than anyone that it's much easier to break the law if you're rich; it always has been.

"Sam and Rhodey are meeting us there," Tony says, ignoring his grumpiness. And that answers Steve's vague question about authority, because Rhodey's still got some, and his presence lends legitimacy--or at least rudimentary ass-coverage--to this outing. For all that's changed since Steve's time, the military is still familiar. "The four of us should be able to handle this. I hope so, anyway, because Bruce is in Houston and Pepper's on a plane to Singapore."

He doesn't ask where Natasha and Clint are--he gets postcards, sometimes, and occasional texts from Natasha, but they're in the wind for now, and Steve can't blame them for that. He knows Thor's in London, but it doesn't sound like they'll need him for this.

And they don't. AIM might be trying to create their own super soldiers, but most of their staff are scientists, and they don't fight back. Tony and Rhodey corral them while Sam and Steve search the facility. Steve's nightmares about finding Bucky strapped to a gurney came roaring back after he and Sam had found the HYDRA reconditioning facility in DC. He doesn't need to imagine the kinds of things that happen in a place like this.

They find three young men and a woman, all of whom have that hollow-eyed, emaciated look of test subjects, and Sam is gently herding them out of their cells when Steve hears it.

"What was that?"

Sam looks back at him, and even with his goggles on, Steve can tell he's puzzled. "What was what?"

Steve hears it again, a little louder, and it sounds like--"That!" He doesn't wait for Sam to respond. He races through the maze of cages and finds one at the end of the row that's still occupied. The woman is lying on her back, dead eyes open and staring, but the baby lying on her chest is crying weakly and waving its little fists, which have worked free of the worn t-shirt it's swaddled in. Steve searches the woman for a pulse but there isn't one, so he pockets one of her dog tags, settles the baby firmly in the crook of his arm--it makes a soft, inquiring noise and then stops crying--and heads back out of the building. 

Steve can hear the ambulance sirens getting closer, and Sam's already checking the released prisoners over, while Tony and Rhodey zip-tie the scientists. The EMTs arrive, so Sam steps out of their way, and they meet Tony back at the quinjet. 

"Rhodey's handling local law enforcement," Tony says, settling behind the controls of the aircraft. "Better him than me."

"Yeah," Steve says. The bundle in his arms is asleep now, and he doesn't know what to do with it.

"You okay?" Sam asks, buckling himself in. 

"Yeah," Steve says again. He sits down and tries not to wake the baby. He can't manage the seatbelt one-handed. "Gimme a hand?" 

Sam looks over at him then, and then does an honest-to-goodness double-take. "Where'd the baby come from?"

"Baby?" Tony asks. "What baby?"

"The one Steve's holding," Sam answers. 

"It was in one of the cells," he says, shifting so Sam can strap him in. "There was a woman with it, but she was dead."

"That's what you heard," Sam says. 

"The baby crying, yeah." He reaches into the pouch for the dog tag. "This is the woman who was with it."

It starts crying again and Tony says, "Not it! I don't do babies. Also, flying the plane here."

Steve looks at Sam and Sam laughs. "Don't look at me, man. I've changed my share of diapers, but this one's all yours."

"Babies don't like me," Steve says plaintively. 

"They just haven't been indoctrinated yet," Tony says.

"Hmph."

"Just leave it wrapped up," Sam says. "We'll be back at the tower in ten minutes. You can change it then." 

"Yeah," Tony chimes in. "JARVIS'll know what to do."

Steve sighs and shifts the baby again, trying to get it to quiet down, but it cries the whole rest of the way.

*

Tony and Sam mysteriously disappear once they're back at the tower, so Steve carries the crying baby to his apartment. 

He takes it into his bedroom and sets it on his bed so he can shuck his gauntlets and uniform top. Its crying just keeps getting louder. It's starting to give him a headache. He's got it halfway unwrapped when Bucky bursts in, looking as wild-eyed as Steve's ever seen him, though not in a dangerous Winter Soldier kind of way. More like how he'd look when Steve was really sick and the doctor said there was nothing he could do to help.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demands, sounding more like himself than he has yet. His voice is rusty with disuse, though; Steve could probably count on one hand the words he's spoken in the past week. 

"Trying to change it. Her," Steve amends, after he's got the soaked diaper open. He wrinkles his nose at the pungent smell. He doesn't blame her for crying if she's been sitting in it the whole time.

"You have no idea how to do it, do you?"

Steve raises his chin in a challenge. "And you do?"

Bucky grunts and walks out. Steve hears the faucet in the bathroom running, and then Bucky's back with a warm, damp washcloth. He grabs the Iron Man t-shirt that Steve never wears from the top of the dresser and tosses it on the bed beside the baby. 

"Watch and learn." He cleans the baby and then folds the t-shirt into makeshift diaper, securing it with safety pins. Steve didn't even know he had any safety pins. Maybe it's an assassin thing.

When Bucky's done, he picks up the now quiet baby, smoothes his hand gently over the wavy dark hair on her head and then offers her to Steve, who backs away.

"Babies don't like me."

Bucky snorts. "What makes you think that?"

"When I was on tour with the USO, people used to hand me their babies and they'd always cry."

"Well, sure, wouldn't you cry if your ma just handed you over to some stranger who didn't even know how to hold you and there were flashbulbs going off in your face?"

"I--How do you know how to do this?"

Bucky shrugs the shoulder that doesn't have a baby resting against it. "I had sisters, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Yeah, you did." Bucky'd had three younger sisters who'd survived, and one who hadn't made it to her first birthday. He follows Bucky and the baby back out into the kitchen. "You remember that?"

Bucky shrugs again. "I remember a lot of crying." He adds a bounce to his step as he walks around their little kitchen. "But you're not crying anymore, are ya, doll? You just need to be fed." He opens the refrigerator and frowns. "Do we have any milk?"

"Excuse me, Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers." Bucky flinches and tries to turn it into another bounce, but Steve notices. He doesn't say anything, though. He's not exactly used to JARVIS yet, either. "Current child-rearing practice involves commercial infant formula, when breast milk is unavailable, rather than cow's milk or the evaporated milk formula you might be familiar with." There's a pause, and then JARVIS continues, "I have taken the liberty of ordering some formula to be delivered. It should arrive in approximately twelve minutes."

Steve says, "Thanks, JARVIS," and then, to Bucky, "Formula?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I don't know any more than you do, pal." He's given the baby his metal thumb to suck on. "Let's go find your superhero friends and see what they know."

Not a whole lot, as it turns out. Steve figured Tony'd be useless with a baby, and he's not wrong.

"Why is your baby using my face as a diaper?" Tony demands as he works on fixing one of Sam's wings. "You couldn't have used a Batman T-shirt?"

"One, it's not my baby, and two, Bucky likes my Batman shirt," Steve says.

"Also, no babies allowed in the workshop." Tony's mouth quirks, and he says, "Except you, DUM-E." DUM-E chirps and rolls after Bucky as he walks the baby around.

Sam is less help than expected, though. When questioned--more like interrogated, though Steve tries to keep the panic out of his voice, and Bucky's menacing loom is softened slightly by the baby in his arms--about baby formula, all he can offer is, "Yeah, there's a bunch of different ones, in case the baby is allergic. But I think breastfeeding is the in thing to do nowadays."

"I thought you had nieces and nephews," Steve says, with maybe a little more accusation in his voice than necessary.

"I'm the cool uncle," Sam answers. "I show up with toys, I play a few games, let them eat whatever they want, and then I go home when they get overstimulated or cranky." He gives Steve a mischievous half-grin that Steve can't help but return. 

"Allergic how?" Bucky asks.

"Lactose intolerant babies?" Tony says at the same time, but Steve ignores him. "Talk about ironic."

"Approximately two to three percent of babies are allergic to milk protein, and a small percentage have a milk intolerance, with symptoms similar to lactose intolerance in adults," JARVIS says. "And a percentage of those babies allergic to milk protein are also allergic to the soy protein used in soy formula substitutes."

Bucky mouths "Soy?" at him and Steve shrugs. He still hasn't gotten used to soy milk. Milk shouldn't come from beans. 

"I took the liberty of ordering an intensely hydrolyzed formula variant," JARVIS continues, "which should make the formula safe even if the baby is allergic or intolerant. It's more expensive, but it seemed the wiser choice." Steve doesn't know how a computer manages to sound apologetic, but right now he doesn't care.

"Thanks, JARVIS. That's fine. We can afford it." Steve still has trouble believing those words, but he has even more trouble with how expensive everything is now, how people can spend in a week what he and Bucky lived on for months.

"Even if you couldn't," Tony says, tilting his head and making an annoyed face, because he hates it when people (read: Steve) won't let him buy them things. 

"The formula has arrived," JARVIS says, before Steve can reply, which is fine. He never knows how to respond to Tony's over the top generosity. "Along with Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan."

When they reach the penthouse, Pepper is there, with Tony's chauffeur behind her, directing a security guard wheeling a dolly stacked with cases of something called Alimentum off the freight elevator. He's followed by several other guards with several other dollies.

"I thought you might need a little more than formula," Pepper says, giving Tony a kiss on the cheek. "You can take it all into Captain Rogers's kitchen for now. Happy will show you."

Steve stares at the retreating piles of boxes and says, "That's a lot more than a little more than formula."

"Especially since CPS is going to be coming for the kid soon," Sam says. He gives Steve a searching look. "You did call CPS, right?"

Steve says, "No?" He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question.

At the same time, Bucky asks, "What is CPS?" They all turn, startled, as if they'd forgotten he was there. The baby is tugging on the ends of his hair that have come loose from his ponytail. She seems happy enough.

"Child Protective Services," Sam says. "They'll take the baby, find out if it--"

"She," Bucky interrupts.

Sam nods. "She has any family."

"And if not?" Steve asks.

"She'll go into the foster system."

"No."

"Bucky--"

"We're not sending a baby to the orphanage, Steve."

Steve remembers the orphanage and foundling home kids, with their thin pale faces and their hand-me-downs somehow even more raggedy than everyone else's. He remembers the fear that his mother would get sick, catch something at the hospital and he'd end up there, and Bucky's fervent promises that the Barneses would always take him in before they'd let that happen. And they had, even though he was too old for the orphanage when his mother died.

"It's not an orphanage," Sam says, but he doesn't sound very convincing. "Babies stand a bigger chance of being adopted than older kids."

"Then we'll adopt her," Bucky says, jaw thrust out pugnaciously. He looks at Steve, and Steve thinks it's a terrible idea--he's got no idea what to do with a baby and Bucky can't even sleep through the night without trying to throttle him--but it's also the first thing that's interested him since he came back, and Steve can't say no to that. Not that he was ever able to say no to Bucky in the old days, when Bucky really wanted him to do something, but now it seems even more important to make sure Bucky gets whatever he wants.

"We'll see," is what he says, though. "Doesn't she need to be fed?" Bucky grunts and stalks off towards the kitchen, and Steve turns to Pepper. "What do you think?"

"I think we can certainly find you a lawyer if you decide to pursue adoption," she says, "but I don't think you need to make that decision right now. I can have someone notify social services that a baby was rescued at the scene earlier, and that she's staying with you until more permanent arrangements can be made."

"Okay," Steve says. "That's good enough for now. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She gives him a warm smile and takes Tony by the elbow to lead him away. Steve can hear Tony say, "Now don't get any ideas, Pep," and her incredulous laugh before the elevator doors close behind them.

He turns to Sam and takes a deep breath. "You said he should have a hobby. That it would help."

"I meant, like, knitting or coin collecting. Motocross, if he was feeling antsy. A baby's not a hobby. It's lifetime commitment." Sam laughs incredulously and shakes his head. "I can't believe this even needs saying."

Steve ignores Sam's sensible response and plows on. "You also said that having something to care for might help."

"I meant a plant! A nice cactus that couldn't be killed! Or maybe a therapy dog. Which has been trained to deal with someone who has PTSD. Not a baby."

"We'll get him a dog, too. Both of them. Kids should have dogs. I always wanted one."

"Yeah?" Sam is looking at him like he's crazy. Maybe he is.

"Yeah. I was allergic, though, so even if we could've afforded to feed one, it was never gonna happen."

"Your Little Matchgirl childhood is heartbreaking, Steve, but don't get distracted from the real issue here. This isn't the kind of thing you make snap decisions about." 

"I know. I just--Did you see? He was like himself--his old self--again."

"I did see, but Steve, you know that as much as I want Barnes to get better, that kid's welfare is just as important, and she's got no one looking out for her best interests."

"Looks like she's got Bucky," Steve says stubbornly, "and that means she's got me, too."

Sam holds his hands up in surrender. "We can talk about it some more after you've thought about it. Because I know you know this is a terrible idea."

"It is," Steve says, "but some of my best ideas have been terrible."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam says. "But this is definitely the worst."

"Pfft. It's not even top five." At Sam's raised eyebrow, Steve counts off on his fingers. "There was agreeing to the serum, going AWOL to attack a HYDRA base on my own, fighting Nazis and aliens with a shield, dropping the shield while I was fighting Bucky, not to mention you personally have seen me jump off buildings and helicarriers without a parachute. More than once, even."

Sam snorts and shakes his head. "I'm still not changing diapers."

"Of course not," Steve says. "You're the cool uncle." 

"Damn right. Though if Tony's her other cool uncle, I'm gonna have to step up my game."

Steve claps him on the shoulder. "You do that. Now I'm gonna go check to make sure Bucky knows what he's doing."

"I hope you both do," Sam murmurs, but Steve pretends not to hear him.

*

Bucky's standing at the sink, running a plastic baby bottle under the tap with one hand and holding the baby in the other. He turns off the water and looks at Steve. "Gimme your hand." Steve obediently sticks out a hand. Bucky turns it over so his palm is facing up, and shakes the bottle over it, splattering a few drops of formula and warm water onto his wrist. "Warm enough?"

Steve shrugs. "How'm I supposed to know?"

Bucky grunts and shoves the baby into Steve's arms so he can test the formula on his own wrist. Steve's not sure if he or the baby squawks louder, and he clutches at her with both hands, afraid she's going to fall.

"Not so tight," Bucky says, taking her back and settling her in the crook of his right arm and putting the bottle to her tiny mouth. She starts sucking immediately, and they both heave huge sighs of relief. Bucky sits down and presses his nose to the top of her head. Steve can hear him inhale and then he smiles. "Baby smell," he says. "Hell of a thing."

Steve leans in then, brushes his nose over the dark curls of her hair. He smells soap and powder and lotion, and something tightens in his chest. "Baby smell, huh?"

Bucky gives him a sly grin. "Yeah."

Steve leans back in his chair and watches as the baby eats hungrily. Bucky murmurs soft instructions to slow down, kid, take it easy, don't wanna make yourself sick, and Steve remembers a dozen occasions from when they were kids and Bucky'd murmured the same thing to him, propping him up against pillows and watching as he ate soup or ice cream, depending on the season and the ailment. 

The baby makes soft, contented noises when Bucky takes the bottle away and sets it on the table. He raises her up against his shoulder and starts patting her on the back. Steve has seen people do this, he understands the purpose, but he's never done it himself, or really paid attention to how it's done. 

It's not very interesting. He's pretty sure they're not going to be able to have any sort of sensible conversation about the situation while Bucky's actually holding the baby, so he's ready to get up and leave them to it when she lets out a belch that's easily loud enough for a person three times her size. But that's not even the most remarkable thing about it. No, the most remarkable thing would be the puff of flame that comes with it, setting Bucky's t-shirt on fire before he shoves the baby at Steve and manages to pat out the flames with his metal hand.

"Ha," he crows, "I'd like to see anyone else adopt her now." He's grinning when he holds Steve's gaze and says, "Our baby breathes fire." 

Steve doesn't expect the words "our baby" to have the impact they do--he feels like he's been sucker punched, but in a good way--but he's also kind of stunned by the fire-breathing part. "JARVIS, can you ask Ms. Potts to join us?"

"Already taken care of, Captain."

*

"Fire-breathing baby," Tony says, eyes wide with excitement, because of course he couldn't sit this one out. 

"I know," Bucky says proudly, as if he had anything to do with it.

"Y'all are crazy," Sam says, because Steve wants him there, too, since he and Pepper seem to be the only responsible adults in the building. Steve likes to believe he's a responsible adult, but events don't always bear him out and he thinks this might be one of those times.

"So you think they gave the baby Extremis," Tony says. 

"It certainly looks that way," Steve says. "What kind of monsters experiment on a baby?"

"Dead ones, if I have anything to say about it," Bucky answers.

"I can fix this. Pep, she's like a mini-Pep. Can we keep her?" 

"You didn't want a regular baby, but you want a fire-breathing baby?" Pepper asks wryly. Tony looks at her hopefully. "Of course you do."

"Of course I do."

"Crazy," Sam mutters again.

"I'm still not changing diapers, though. Or burping." He gestures towards the baby with the screwdriver in his hand. "Or, you know, anything involving holding or handling it. Her. Mini-Pep. Especially if bodily fluids are involved."

"We're not calling her mini-Pep," Bucky says. He looks at Pepper. "No offense."

"None taken. And you're not going to hunt down AIM scientists if you want to be a respectable foster parent candidate." 

"But--"

"No buts. If the Avengers get called on to help deal with AIM again, we'll revisit the issue, but until then, no extracurriculars." Pepper is unusually stern.

Bucky looks abashed. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

(Later, when they're alone he says, "Now I know how she runs that company and keeps Stark in line. What a dame." And Steve can only nod in agreement.)

Steve looks at Sam. "You agree that this changes things."

"Yeah," Sam says, "but everything I said to you before is still true."

Bucky glances at Sam and then back at Steve, who says, "We'll talk later, Buck. Why don't you put the baby down for a nap?"

"Bruce will be back by dinner," Pepper says. "He can examine her and make sure there are no other surprises in store. But for now, I think a nap sounds like a good idea." The way she's looking at them all, Steve thinks she doesn't just mean for the baby.

"Okay," he says, shepherding Bucky and the baby back down to his apartment before he can object.

Bucky looks at the piles of stuff that have been delivered and mutters, "Ah, fuck it." He hands Steve the baby again--and Steve is not getting used to that any time soon, though she's a warm sleepy weight in his arms now, and he finds the smell of her calming--and starts poking through the boxes for something that might be a crib before he gives up and goes into his bedroom. He comes back with a drawer from his dresser, with a towel folded in the bottom as a mattress.

"It was good enough for us, right?" he says with a self-conscious grin. 

"Yeah, Buck. Yeah, it was."

"All right, lay her in there," Bucky says. 

"The National Institute of Child Health and Human Development recommends that infants be placed on their backs to sleep to reduce the chance of SIDS," JARVIS says. 

So that's what Steve does.

Once she's asleep, Steve fixes himself a sandwich while Bucky starts sorting through the boxes Pepper had delivered, which in addition to all the formula, include packages of diapers and baby wipes, a ton of little t-shirts with snaps at the crotch, and a basin that informs them that it is a whale of a tub.

"I'm not crazy," Bucky says abruptly, sitting down next to Steve at the table. "Well, not any crazier than I was this morning when you left. I might even be a little saner."

Steve gives him a skeptical half-grin. "How's that?"

"Got something to focus on now. Someone who needs me. Can't sit around all day feeling guilty if the baby needs feeding and changing."

"I need you," Steve says immediately. After all, it's the absolute truth. He doesn't know what he would've done if he'd lost Bucky again after finding out he was alive. He doesn't ever want to think about it again.

Bucky shakes his head. "Not, not like that. Not the way you used to."

"Bucky." Steve's not sure if he's chiding or pleading. A little of both, probably.

"No, I mean, I'm not--I got over you being," he gestures at Steve, "this a long time ago. Still can't believe that five minutes after I asked you not to do anything stupid, you signed up to be a lab rat for the army, but I'm glad, Steve. You know that, right? That I only ever wanted great things for you, for everyone else to know what I already did about you."

"Yeah, I know." Steve reaches out and wraps his fingers around Bucky's wrist, feeling the steady beat of his pulse like he still needs to remind himself sometimes that this is real, that he has Bucky back. Bucky has flinched away from a lot of attempted touches in the past couple of months, but he allows this one, and maybe it's selfish, but Steve would keep the baby just for that.

"But this--she--gives me something to do that's not," he grimaces, "that's not killing people. Something I'm good at. I was good at taking care of you, wasn't I, Steve?"

"Yeah, Buck, you were." Steve wants to lean in and kiss the doubt off Bucky's face, show him how much he's still needed, but that wasn't a thing they did then, even though Steve had wanted to more than anything, and now, he doesn't want Bucky to laugh it off as a joke, or worse, think it's out of pity. And it's true, Bucky took care of him, when they were kids, and then when they grew up, and again during the war. It was the one thing he always counted on, until it was gone.

"So that's what you can tell Sam next time he says I need a hobby." Bucky gets up and is gone into the bedroom before Steve can tell him to tell Sam himself. 

*

While Steve writes up a mission report (nobody requires it of him, but he feels the need to keep a record of what they do, in case anyone ever calls them out on it, and especially this time, given the results), Bucky gets all the baby's stuff put away in his room--her room now, Steve supposes--and feeds her again before JARVIS lets them know Bruce is ready for them down in the lab.

Bruce handles the baby gently and confidently when Bucky hands her over to be weighed and measured and examined. "She's healthy, and once Tony stabilizes the Extremis in her system, she'll be even better, though she likely has a faster-than-normal metabolism and thus requires more frequent feeding and, unfortunately for you, less sleep than a non-enhanced baby." He gives them a wry smile. "I guess you two know something about that."

Steve laughs and nods.

"She's fifteen pounds exactly," Bruce continues, "and twenty-four inches long. I'd estimate she's about five months old. JARVIS?"

"Those measurements are well within the parameters for a five-month-old," JARVIS says. "She should be able to sit up for short periods of time, and may begin rocking back and forth in an attempt to roll over if she hasn't already begun doing that."

Steve shoots an alarmed glance at Bucky, who purses his lips and nods solemnly.

"So don't leave her unattended out of the crib," Bruce says. He glances between them. "I'm pretty sure you've got that covered already."

Bucky ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. "Is there anything else we should be doing?"

"Play with her. Talk to her," Bruce says. "What's her name?"

Steve looks at Bucky and Bucky looks at the baby. "Rikki. Rebecca Anne." Now he glances at Steve. "For my sister."

"Yeah," Steve says. "You guys were close." Becky was only a year younger than Bucky, a couple months younger than Steve; Bernadette and Brigid had been four or five years younger than Becky. Margaret had been born and died in between. None of Bucky's sisters were still alive now, though there were some grandkids Steve had discovered out on Long Island; he hadn't yet found the nerve to introduce himself before Bucky came back, and now he's not sure what to do about it, but he is sure it can wait a little while longer.

"Rebecca Anne Barnes," Bruce says. 

"Rogers," Bucky says.

Steve looks at him in surprise. "What?"

"Barnes-Rogers. That's how they do it today, right?"

"Yeah," Bruce says. 

"Our baby," Bucky insists, taking her in his arms and holding Steve's gaze.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, through the sudden tightness in his throat.

Bruce warns them not to check the internet. "Avoid the mommy blogs. Let JARVIS handle sorting the good advice from the bad," he says. "Otherwise, it'll make you crazy." 

Steve wants to ask how he knows so much, but he doesn't want to pry, so he just says thanks and leaves, his hand on the small of Bucky's back while Bucky carries the baby.

Between Pepper, Bruce, and JARVIS, he thinks they've got the baby basics covered, but he's still nervous about everything. He puts the crib together while Bucky plays with Rikki, and he tamps down his qualms about putting it in Bucky's room. He surreptitiously takes pictures on his phone as Bucky bathes her in her plastic whale tub in the sink, because she coos and splashes while Bucky sings "By the Beautiful Sea." 

Then he watches as Bucky tries to teach him how to diaper her and put her into her pajamas, which have a picture of his shield on the front. 

"We'll have to get a her a Bucky Bear," Steve says.

Bucky wrinkles his nose. "They still make those things?"

"Yeah." 

"Huh."

"JARVIS says no toys in the crib, though, not for a while yet. But she can play with it when she's awake."

"That's all right. You can make her a mobile. Maybe paint some bunnies on the walls or something."

"Maybe," Steve says. "Or dragons."

Bucky smiles. "Dragons are cool."

They put her down and leave the door open--they both have super sensitive hearing, but they take turns checking on her every fifteen or twenty minutes. "Just to make sure she's still breathing," Bucky whispers, and Steve's glad he's not the only one who's anxious about that.

Bucky turns in early. "Less wear on the carpet," he says with a rueful smile. 

Steve stays up and reads for a while, but he's fast asleep when the crying starts a few hours later. He jolts up, heart pumping, but Bucky's already there, walking her back and forth and humming "Summertime." His heart lurches, and he laughs at himself silently. You've got it bad, Rogers, he thinks, but then, when it comes to Bucky, he always has.

"She cries every time I put her down," Bucky says, bewildered and maybe just a little shocky. "I guess I knew that could happen, but I didn't expect it."

"Come on," Steve says, heading back to his room. "Bring her with you."

"Are you sure? I haven't exactly been safe at night." 

"I trust you," Steve says, though once they're all lying in his giant bed, he's not only worried that Bucky's thrashing might wake her again and scare her, he's afraid he's going to roll over and squash her. So he clings to the edge of the bed, leaving a careful distance between them.

But Bucky sleeps with her hand wrapped tight around his finger, and they breathe in tandem, eventually lulling Steve with them. There are no nightmares and no more crying, and when Steve wakes up, he's on his side facing them, he and Bucky bracketing Rikki like the world's largest parentheses. 

Bucky's eyes flutter open and he smiles. "Hey."

"Good morning. How are you?"

"Best night's sleep I've had in ages. You?"

"Yeah," Steve says, surprised to discover that it's true. He's a light sleeper, and he's pretty sure his brain was on alert for any noises Rikki might make, but he feels rested and refreshed, and Bucky looks that way, too.

*

Sundays are usually quiet days. Steve goes for his morning run in a chilly late October drizzle, and he actually stops a young woman pushing a carriage as she jogs, so he can ask for the make of the stroller.

"So I can take Rikki out when I go running," he tells Bucky once he's back at the tower. Bucky nods and butters his toast. "Maybe you could come with us."

Bucky looks up at him and gives him a half-smile. "Maybe." Then he glances out the window at the rain. "Maybe not when it's like this out, though. Might just go back to bed in this kind of weather."

"You're not going to melt," Steve says.

"Don't want the baby to catch cold," Bucky answers.

"I'm pretty sure the Extremis will take care of that."

"Still," Bucky says. "I don't know that I want her growing up doing dumbass things just because she'll heal afterwards." He gives Steve a sly look from underneath his messy hair. "Unlike some people I know."

"Hey," Steve says, but even seventy years later, he still doesn't really have a winning argument against that one, so he just says, "Were you serious about decorating your room for the baby?"

"It's her room now," Bucky says, "so yeah."

"What about you?"

"Your room's big enough for the both of us." He laughs softly. "Your room is bigger than our whole first apartment was. Remember that?"

Steve doesn't try to hide his surprise. Bucky rarely initiates their frequent "remember when" conversations. "The one on Dikeman Street?"

"Yeah."

Steve huffs softly. "That place _was_ tiny."

"It was all right," Bucky says. "You didn't take up much room." Steve snorts but Bucky ignores him. "And it was close to the docks. Made it easy to walk to work." He takes a sip of coffee. "So what grand mural are you planning for the walls?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe I'll just get out my paints and see what happens."

Bucky stands, dusts the crumbs off his hands, puts his plate in the sink, and picks up Rikki's baby seat/cradle thing. Steve's never going to get used to all the stuff that babies apparently come with in the future. "We'll leave you to it, then. Miss Rikki and I are going for a walk."

"Does that mean you're going to bother Tony?"

"Or Sam. Whoever's awake at this hour."

"Try not to get into too much trouble."

"Since you're not going with us, I think we'll be fine."

"Hmph." Steve looks up at him and for an awkward moment, he thinks Bucky is going to kiss him (he _hopes_ Bucky is going to kiss him), but then Bucky raises Rikki up so Steve can drop a kiss on her forehead instead. She coos happily and pats his cheek and Steve already can't imagine life without her.

After they're gone, he gets his art supplies out and starts planning the mural. By lunchtime, he's got something he likes sketched roughly along the wall above the crib; he's planning on white fluffy clouds and a soft yellow sun, bright green grass and maybe some fluffy brown and white bunnies at play. 

He's pouring himself another cup of coffee when Bucky and Rikki return, bringing Pepper and Sam with them.

"The social worker from CPS is coming tomorrow," Pepper says without preamble. "I've had our lawyer explain the circumstances to them, so hopefully it will go smoothly, but you should know that if you're planning to adopt, you'll have better luck as a married couple." She glances at Bucky before turning back to Steve. "You do know that it's legal in New York State now for two men to get married?"

Steve sighs. "Yes, Pepper, we're aware of that." He looks at Bucky. "Buck?"

"I'm in if you're in."

"You can't just pretend to be married in order to adopt a kid," Sam says. "Which, for the record, I still think is a bad idea."

"Duly noted," Steve says.

Bucky frowns. "Who says anything about pretending?"

Sam covers his face with his hand. "This is some crazy-ass rom com thing happening here," he says, "and I'm telling you right now, I am not the sassy black friend."

"No," Steve says, "you're the responsible adult, and we're Laurel and Hardy."

Bucky laughs out loud at that, the first time Steve's heard that sound in seventy years. "It's certainly another fine mess you've gotten us into."

Steve grins at him. "But I'm sure you'll get us out."

Pepper beams at them, but Sam says, "This is why I don't live here. All y'all are crazy."

"No," Steve says, "you don't live here because Sharon's still based in DC, but you'll come back for the christening, right?" 

"I'm not even Catholic, but I better be the godfather," Sam replies, finally grinning. "And now I'm going to leave before any more of your crazy rubs off."

"Too late," Bucky says. "You're doomed." Sam's not the only one who looks a little surprised by this--Bucky hasn't really spoken much to Sam, aside from an apology for ripping off his wings when he first came home. He offers Sam a hand now, though, and Sam shakes it. "Thanks, man. For everything." 

"No problem." Sam jerks his head in Steve's direction. "Just try and keep this one out of trouble, huh?"

"Been trying to do that since 1926. It hasn't exactly been a success."

"Try harder. You guys've got a baby to look after now."

They all laugh, but Steve can't help but be struck yet again by the wild truth of that, and what it means for him and Bucky both.

Sam doesn't leave immediately, though; Pepper convinces him to stay for lunch, and they discuss strategies to deal with the social worker over frisée salads and fancy sandwiches. 

*

The social services lady appears bright and early on Monday morning. She introduces herself as Ms. Woodson, and she's got a no-nonsense gleam in her eye that reminds Steve of the nuns from his grammar school days, and a grip that would intimidate lesser men when Steve shakes her hand. She eyes them skeptically and makes little "mm hmm" noises low in her throat as they show her around their suite, and then the common areas of the tower. Bucky carries the baby and lets Steve do all the talking. Steve tries his best, though when they were younger, it was always Bucky who did the charming and Steve who looked earnestly innocent when dealing with authority figures. He makes sure to emphasize the safety features in the tower (and he sends up a grateful prayer of thanks for Pepper, who made sure the staff baby-proofed the place after their long lunch) and the fact that Rikki will have every creature comfort money can buy (and a few that it can't).

"And this is Rikki's room," he says, gesturing towards the spare room that was Bucky's and is now the baby's. The bunny mural is half-painted, and he's sketched Winnie the Pooh and Piglet over by the window (he's still deciding whether to add Tigger and Kanga and Roo), and there's an Avengers mobile hanging over the crib now that Tony cobbled together down in his workshop. Bucky's moved his sparse belongings into Steve's room, because if they're going to pretend to be married, they have to get the details right. And also because more stuff for the baby keeps arriving and they don't know where else to put it all.

"Mm hmm," she says, taking it all in with a gimlet eye. Once they're sitting at the kitchen table, she takes a manila folder from her tote bag and says, "How long have you and Mr. Barnes been together?"

"Since 1935," Steve says, reaching out and curling a hand over Bucky's. "If one of us were a woman, we'd have been considered common law spouses."

"You know that New York State doesn't recognize common law marriages," she says.

"Yeah," Bucky says, "but we'd have been grandfathered in, since they were legal until 1938."

Ms. Woodson narrows her eyes at him, but Bucky's gone back to feeding Rikki, and either doesn't notice or, more likely, isn't intimidated by her suspicious glare.

"We listed each other as next of kin on all our enlistment paperwork," Steve continues. "Which should count for something."

"And we're gonna make it official now that it's legal for two fellas to tie the knot here in the future," Bucky says. "Invite you to the wedding if you like."

Steve hopes he contains his surprise at this announcement, because despite Bucky's joking, they didn't actually discuss getting married for real once Pepper came up with the common law marriage idea (not that Steve wouldn't be one hundred percent on board with marrying Bucky if he thought Bucky really wanted to marry him), and also because Ms. Woodson looks like someone who follows up on things, and if she doesn't get an invitation to their fictitious wedding, she might cause trouble.

"Congratulations," she says dryly. "Rest assured, I'll be looking into your paperwork, but since you're Captain America, and Dr. Banner has informed me of Rebecca's special condition, I suppose you can begin adoption proceedings once I've filed my report."

She stands, and they stand with her, and shake her hand again when she offers it. "I'm sure you'll be very happy together, and make a fine home for that baby, but I'm glad you understand that we have to do this by the book."

"Of course," Steve says immediately. 

"You'll be hearing from my office soon, then, Captain Rogers. Mr. Barnes. Have a nice day."

Once she's gone, they collapse on the couch, Bucky with Rikki against his shoulder as he burps her, and Steve feeling as drained and nervy as if he'd just fought another platoon of HYDRA agents.

"We're having a baby," he says finally, still a little dazed.

"I hate to break it to you, pal, but I think we already did," Bucky answers with a grin.

*

Rikki slots into their lives like she was always meant to be there, in the small space between them on Steve's giant bed, in the stroller Steve takes with him now on his morning runs, at the table when she tries to grab food off Bucky's plate instead of drinking her bottle in peace. The murals on her bedroom walls grow and intersect until it's all one big scene of bunnies in the meadow and Pooh in the Hundred Acre woods, with dragons sketched in high on the walls in the corner furthest from her crib. Her collection of one-of-a-kind toys made by Tony grows, as well, and he promises to make her a robot just like Dum-E when she's old enough to play with one safely. (Dum-E tries, but pincers and babies are a bad combination, so instead he takes to following her around at a distance, supplying spare washcloths and clean onesies whenever she needs changing down in the workshop. Tony builds _it_ a tiny baby robot to chirp over, and then acts like he doesn't know where it came from. They name it Babe-E.)

She starts crying a lot more often, and then there's a fever that Bruce swears is low grade but which freaks both Steve and Bucky out, Steve because he thought modern medicine was supposed to be able to fix these things easily and quickly (which Tylenol for babies does, but still, it's the principle of the thing, Steve thinks), and Bucky because he definitely has the memories of Steve being sick and how a slight fever would suddenly escalate into pneumonia over the course of a couple of days.

"She doesn't have pneumonia, guys. She's not even really sick," Bruce says. "She's teething, and that sometimes causes an elevation in temperature. She might be in some discomfort, but once the tooth breaks the surface, she should get some relief."

Sam overnights them a fancy teething ring with liquid inside that they're supposed to freeze and let her gnaw on, with strict instructions not to put whiskey on her gums. 

"No, man, no alcohol for the infants. You'll get in trouble with the social services lady if she finds out," he says when Steve calls him.

"Our mothers did it to us and we turned out all right," Bucky says grumpily, but he lets Rikki gum his metal fingers while they wait for the teething ring to freeze.

When Steve comes back from a briefing with Maria Hill, he finds Bucky dancing Rikki around the room while he blows raspberries on her belly and she shrieks with laughter. Yeah, he thinks, blinking quickly against the sudden stinging behind his eyes, we turned out all right.

*

Natasha visits about a week after their first meeting with Ms. Woodson. "Have to vet the new addition, don't I?" she asks with a sly smile. Bucky stiffens next to Steve on the couch, and his tenseness sets Rikki to crying, but Natasha just waves at him. "You've got your hands full," she says. "Come see me down in the gym later if you want to spar."

Bucky inclines his head; he's given his metal hand to Rikki, who's sucking on his thumb, while Steve tries to find the teething ring Sam gave them. They never remember to put it back in the freezer after it melts.

Clint glances between Natasha and Bucky, his expression carefully neutral. "I've heard a lot about you."

Steve looks at Natasha, and she gives him a one-shouldered shrug and a tip of her head. 

Bucky skims a kiss across the top of Rikki's head--Steve knows he's inhaling that sweet baby smell to ground himself--and then grins. "Yeah? I hear you can shoot."

"I've been known to hit a target or two," Clint answers with a grin of his own.

Bucky hums thoughtfully. "I guess we'll see."

"We brought a gift," Natasha says, rolling her eyes and elbowing Clint.

"Oh, yeah." Clint pulls a brightly wrapped package out of his backpack and hands it to Steve.

"Thank you. You didn't have to." Steve holds it out to Rikki, who bats at it with one tiny hand. Bucky helps her rip the paper, which reveals a plush Bucky Bear.

"Oh wow, I haven't seen one of these since 1944," Bucky says. 

"I had one when I was a kid," Clint says. 

"Thank you," Bucky says. Rikki's already gumming at one of the bear's ears. "It's really swell."

"You're welcome," Natasha says. "Just so we're clear, I don't babysit, and I don't change diapers. When she's able to walk and talk, we can spend some time together, but until then, I am strictly hands off."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve says, snapping off a jaunty salute. She flips him the bird in response.

"Jeez, Nat, not in front of the baby," Clint says, folding his hand over her finger, and they all laugh.

Later, after Clint and Natasha have gone off to their own apartments, Steve picks up the momentarily abandoned Bucky Bear and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

"Tony's talking about doing one with a removable arm," he says. 

Bucky looks at him sharply. "I can't imagine people want their kids to have a Winter Soldier bear."

"Pepper says it'll be a big hit with kids who have prosthetics. I was planning to ask you about it, because I wasn't sure what you'd think."

"I don't know what to think, Steve. Six months ago, I didn't know who I was and I was trying to kill you."

"And look at you now," Steve says fondly. 

"Steve." Bucky's tone is chiding, because he doesn't believe Steve is taking the threat seriously, but Steve knows him, and knows how far he's already come.

"I trust you," Steve says, solemn now. "I believe in you and I know you would never willingly hurt me or Rikki." He drops a kiss on the baby's forehead and wants to do the same for Bucky, but has to settle for squeezing his shoulder instead.

"I'll think about it," Bucky says, and Steve is willing to leave it at that for now.

*

Once Ms. Woodson gives them the go-ahead, they start gathering the necessary paperwork to begin the adoption process.

"We're screwed," Bucky says miserably, tossing his pen down onto the table, where it leaves a long blue line on the form he's supposed to be filling out.

Steve frowns at his copy of the form. "I don't see how our medical histories from before 1943 are relevant," he says. He'd rather not have to write up the extensive list of maladies he was plagued with before the serum.

"I'm more concerned about the seventy years I spent as a brainwashed assassin," Bucky replies. "I'm not on the sex offender registry, but I'm going to pop up on every most wanted list since 1954." 

Steve snorts. "I think Natasha and Tony already took care of that. You should be clear."

Bucky glances at him, surprised. "Natasha hasn't been around much lately."

Steve grins. "She doesn't want to get stuck babysitting. She did promise self-defense lessons for Rikki when she's old enough, though."

Bucky raises a skeptical eyebrow. "She doesn't think you and I can handle that?"

"I think there was something about teaching her things all women should know, and then something about how we don't know those things." 

Bucky grunts. "If she takes after you, she'll be throwing punches by kindergarten, so I hope Natasha is ready."

Steve would like to argue with that, but since it's true, he really doesn't have a leg to stand on. Instead, he pulls another form out of the folder, sees that it's an application for a marriage license, and fights the urge to shove it back in. He knows they need to have that conversation, but he's not ready for it. He's not sure he'll ever be ready for it, but they have to have it before they end up married and then Bucky meets someone two or three years down the line that he falls in love with. 

Bucky reaches across the table and curls his fingers around Steve's hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just--We need to talk about this marriage thing." He smoothes the crinkles out of the form and takes a deep, calming breath. 

"Yeah?" Bucky asks, wariness clear on his face now.

"You know I want you to be happy," Steve says, "and I would do anything in the world to make that happen, but--"

"Steve Rogers, are you jilting me?"

"This isn't funny, Buck."

"And I ain't laughing, Steve. I thought we agreed that getting married was the right thing to do." He looks away for a moment, and Steve can see the tightness in his jaw. "For Rikki."

"You know I want us to be a family," Steve says, reaching out and taking Bucky's hand again. "We _are_ a family. But I don't want you to regret it a year or two from now when you meet someone and want to get married for real."

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. "Were you always this thick? I can't remember. And that feels like something I should remember."

"What?"

"I want to marry you and adopt a baby with you, Steve. I don't know how much clearer or more obvious I can be. When I said, 'till the end of the line,' I meant it."

Steve's chest tightens, and for a second he forgets how to breathe, the sensation all too familiar despite his not having felt it in so long. 

Bucky leans over and starts rubbing his back, and this, too, is familiar. "Steve? Steve, you with me here? Steve, buddy, you gotta breathe."

Steve sucks in a deep breath and then lets it all out in a stream of words. "I--Yeah, Buck. But you never said anything. And you had a new gal every week. You never looked twice at a guy, and you certainly never looked at me."

"There were a couple of guys, down at the docks, just to try it out." Bucky shakes his head. "I didn't want you to know. I couldn't look at you, because I didn't want you to figure it out. I didn't want you to be disgusted."

"What makes you think I would've been disgusted? We had queer friends, Buck. It never bothered me. Even when the Eighth Street boys used to beat me up because they all thought I was queer."

"Okay, sure, but it's one thing when it's Arnie and his fella, but another when it's the guy you live with checking out your ass. I was afraid. I didn't realize, not until I saw those films of us at the museum, that I couldn't hide it from the camera. I couldn't, but it didn't matter, because you were looking right back, and I was so afraid that I never saw it. God, Steve, the way you looked at me--" Bucky swallows hard and shakes his head again. "I wanted that back. I didn't remember it, but I knew it was mine and I wanted it back. 'S'why I showed up on your doorstep." His hand settles on the nape of Steve's neck, his thumb stroking over the skin and making Steve shiver. "And you do, you do look at me like that. I sure as hell don't deserve it, but I'm selfish enough to want to lock you down now, before you wise up and change your mind."

"Haven't wised up yet," Steve says hoarsely. "Don't think I ever will." He reaches out and mirrors Bucky's gesture, palming the nape of Bucky's neck and tugging him in so they can press their foreheads together. "Till the end of the line," he says, and then they're kissing. 

Bucky's mouth is warm and soft beneath his, and Steve loses himself in the wet heat of it for a little while. Bucky climbs into his lap and they rock against each other like teenagers while they neck, and Steve thinks he could be happy just like this for the rest of his life. He's got Bucky's shirt off, and Bucky's hands are at the fly of Steve's jeans when the baby starts crying.

Steve lets out a forlorn little moan when Bucky pulls away. Bucky huffs a soft laugh and drops a kiss on the top of his head before he goes to pick Rikki up. 

"Come on," he says, tipping his head towards their bedroom. "Let's go to bed."

*

They take a trip down to DC on Thanksgiving weekend, have another turkey dinner with Sam and Sharon, and then Steve takes Bucky and Rikki to visit Peggy. She's mistier than she was the last time Steve saw her, but she takes Bucky's hand and gives them her blessing when Steve tells her they're getting married. Rikki's not the only one who sheds a few tears that day.

They let Pepper plan the wedding, which is set for New Year's Eve. The only thing Steve insists on is picking out the rings, which they engrave with till the end of the line. They do indeed invite Ms. Woodson to the wedding, and she wears the fanciest hat Steve's seen since he woke up. Sam stands up for Steve and Natasha for Bucky ("Though I am not going to be the godmother, I'm telling you that right now," she says before she agrees to be his Best Person, and that's fine, because they were always planning on asking Pepper to be godmother anyway), and it's the happiest day of Steve's life so far, and it has some stiff competition lately.

A few days after Christmas, Thor and his entourage arrive in a whirlwind (not an actual whirlwind, though with Thor anything is possible), and while Tony and Bruce spirit Dr. Foster away for science talk, Thor and Rikki take to each other like ducks to water. 

"Your daughter has a good, strong grip and a healthy set of lungs," he says, grinning with delight and tossing her in the air. (Bucky looks like he's going to have a conniption, but Steve trusts Thor implicitly. Though he wishes Thor were a little less cavalier with the baby.) "She will be a worthy warrior to take up your name and shield when she is grown, and all that is evil will tremble in her sight."

"Thanks," Bucky says, still looking faintly alarmed. "I think."

"Children are a great blessing," Thor says. "And I am so happy for you, my friends."

"Thank you," Steve says, smiling warmly and clapping Thor on the shoulder while Thor beams at him, and then Steve takes the baby back, because he's still kind of awkward when it comes to holding her, but he also doesn't really want Thor tossing her around again.

In the doldrums of January, during a snowstorm that nearly shuts the city down, Tony talks them all through the procedure to stabilize the Extremis in Rikki's system, and Steve wants to look away when he injects their daughter with a needle as long as her arm. Bucky squeezes Steve's hand so tightly he cuts off the circulation for a little bit, but Rikki comes through with flying colors, and there are no more fiery accidents while she's burping. 

They don't know what her date of birth is, so when the time comes to sign the official adoption paperwork, Steve puts down June first on the forms, because that's the day Bucky showed up at his door, looking to recover something of his past and the man he was, and it feels true. Steve likes the symmetry of it, anyway. 

Bucky still has bad days, and the occasional bad night, usually exacerbated by being kept up by the baby, or when Steve is away on Avengers business. He agrees to become a back up member when necessary (to watch Steve's back, he says, but Steve interprets that a little loosely), as long as someone's available to watch the baby, but mostly he's Steve's stay-at-home husband and they're both happy about that. He hasn't decided yet about the new model Bucky Bears, but after a visit to the children's ward at Bellevue, he gave the go-ahead for a prototype to be made. Steve can't ask him for more than that.

On rainy mornings now, Steve gets up and puts Rikki in her crib. She usually coos softly and then goes right back to sleep. Instead of going for a run, Steve crawls back into bed beside Bucky and wakes him up with kisses.

It's not the life he ever really expected to have, not before he went into the ice or after he came out of it, but he's found it suits him right down to the ground, and when he looks at Bucky and Rikki and all their friends, and the family they've made for each other, he can't imagine anything better.

end

**Author's Note:**

> Unless things have changed, it's highly unlikely the Catholic church would allow a baby's godparents to not be Catholic, but maybe they found an accommodating priest who'd make an exception for Captain America. 
> 
> **ETA:** as numerous commenters have pointed out, this no longer seems to be the case.


End file.
